Silent Communication
by Little Miss Flo
Summary: Sam's flirting, Jack's in a mood, and Daniel suffers through it.


**Silent Communication**

Summary: Sam's flirting, Jack's in a mood, and Daniel suffers through it.  
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters nor profit from their use - I merely toy with them for my own amusement.

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Daniel spun a quarter on the table idly, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that Jack was sulking. The man would categorically deny it if accused – undoubtedly with something along the lines of 'Colonel's don't sulk' – but Daniel knew a sulk when he saw one. Jack had been glowering in the general direction of the pool table for the better part of the last hour, and it didn't take Teal'c and his amateur sleuth hobby to figure out why.

Sam was flirting.

He wondered if she knew what effect it was having on Jack. If she did, he had to conclude that either she was mad at him or determined not to care tonight, but he rather suspected she didn't. It probably didn't help that she looked stunning this evening, in a figure hugging knee-length skirt and a soft long sleeved top, the neckline of which showed just the right amount of cleavage to be classy but seductive. Objectively, Daniel had to admit that she looked damn good, even if it did make him want to yell at her for looking like that and then _flirting_ in front of his best friend, who was nursing his third whiskey of the evening.

She sunk another shot on the pool table, and grinning, palmed the pile of notes on the side of the table, fanning herself with them coquettishly as she said something to the tall guy she'd just beaten. The guy took a step towards her as he responded, and reached out to touch her arm, and Daniel physically felt Jack tense. Sam didn't pull away from the handsy guy, and Daniel made a decision. Enough was enough.

He stood and made his way over to her.

"Having fun?" He asked cheerfully as he approached the table.

Sam turned to him, dislodging Handsy's paw on her arm, beaming. "I'm up eighty bucks."

"Thirty of that was mine." Handsy said.

"Well, next time you'll know better." Daniel said. "Sam, do you want to come and help me get the next round of drinks in?"

"Sure." Sam waved goodbye to Handsy with a girlish wink that Daniel felt was quite beneath her dignity, and joined him at the bar as they waited their turn for the bartender's attention.

"So, what's with you?" Daniel asked.

"What?" Sam asked innocently.

"You're flirting. A lot."

"No I'm not."

"Are too."

"I'm not playing that game with you Daniel." Sam teased. "And anyway, even if I was, just a little bit, it was just for fun. And to make it that much more satisfying when I completely wiped the floor with him at pool."

"So you're not actually trying to pull?" Daniel checked.

Sam gave him an odd look. "No. Not that it would be any of your business if I was."

"Hey, when I have to be the one who deals with Jack's black mood, it becomes my business."

She looked guilty all of a sudden, and glanced in Jack's direction. Then her expression turned stubborn.

"If the colonel's in a bad mood, it can't possibly just be because I was having fun for once in my life."

"You don't think there can be any connection between you dressing up and then flirting outrageously with a bunch of guys right in front of him, and Jack's mood going south?"

Sam looked angry now. "Ok. First of all, I'm not 'dressed up'. Secondly, I admit I was flirting a little, but it certainly wasn't 'outrageously'. And thirdly, if he's got a problem with any of that, he's welcome to talk to me himself rather than sending you to pass notes in class like we're all in high school."

Daniel looked to the heavens and blew out an exasperated breath. "You know what? You're right. I don't know what I was thinking." _If Sam wants to pretend to be oblivious and Jack wants to do absolutely nothing about it, that's their prerogative. I'm out._

They waited for their drinks in stony silence. When they took them back to SG-1's table (minus Teal'c who had been borrowed for a mission by SG-3), Daniel was mildly surprised when Sam sat down with them rather than going back out to the pool table and her gaggle of leering idiots.

Jack took the glass of water Daniel had brought for him with a glare. Daniel shrugged. "You've had enough whiskey." He said simply.

"Last I checked, you weren't my wife or my mother." Jack grouched.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Everyone's a critic today." He got up to go to the men's room, needing a break from the pair of them.

Ten minutes later, having used the facilities and taken in some fresh air outside to clear his head, he stopped short at the bar on his way back to the table.

They were talking. _Really_ talking. Sam was leaning across the table – probably inadvertently revealing a lot of extra cleavage to Jack in the process, Daniel thought with a smirk – and she was saying something intently with her hand on Jack's arm. And for the first time in the last hour or so, Jack didn't look murderous.

Daniel sat down at the bar, making sure he was hidden from their immediate view, and – feeling a little like a voyeur but telling himself he was entitled after putting up with them all evening – he watched them talk.

It was their eyes that were most telling, Daniel thought. He and Teal'c had noticed years ago that Sam and Jack were experts at silent communication, conveying a thousand words with a look. Now, even as they talked and chuckled softly like they were on a date, he guessed that what they were actually saying was probably perfectly innocent and innocuous. The real conversation was happening in their eyes.

After another few minutes, the mood changed. They leant back in their seats, and suddenly they were teammates joking around again rather than two people desperately in love and trying to figure out what the hell they were doing.

Sometimes, Daniel honestly just wanted to bang their heads together and tell them to go talk to General Hammond and be done with it. But he wouldn't, and neither would they, not while SG-1 was at the front line of a war. He supposed he was grateful for that, really, even if it meant he did occasionally have to deal with Sam being infuriating and Jack being an ass.

He ordered a plate of wings and took them back to the table.

"Do I want to know why it took you _that_ long to go the bathroom?" Jack teased.

Daniel gave him a withering glare. "I think what you mean to say is 'thank you Daniel, for bringing me delicious food to absorb all of that alcohol I bull-headedly insisted on drinking'."

Jack said nothing, but picked up a wing with a smirk, and canted his head in oblique thanks and apology.

Daniel sat down next to Sam, who squeezed his knee and smiled at him contritely. He smiled back, accepting the apology, and thinking that it wasn't just Sam and Jack who had the monopoly on silent communication.

It was an SG-1 thing.


End file.
